Castles in the Sky
by whereismypen
Summary: Harry Potter never received his Hogwarts letter. When Albus Dumbledore dies, the thread that's holding the wizarding world together begins to unravel. AU. Harry/Tonks.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Castles in the Sky

 **Summary:** Harry Potter never received his Hogwarts letter. When Albus Dumbledore dies, the thread that's holding the wizarding world together begins to unravel. AU. Harry/Tonks.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Rating:** M

 **Chapter 1:** April 2002

The night air was crisp but unseasonably warm for the early April day. The dark cobblestone streets were filled with residents and tourists, all seemingly happy for the brief reprieve from the typically dreary English spring. In the array of lights, activity, and music, Nymphadora Tonks appeared to fit right into the eclectic borough. Though Nymphadora, or Tonks - to her friends - didn't feel quite as comfortable as she appeared. She used her pale slim hand, fingers covered in decorative rings, to smooth the bouncy lavender curls she had chosen to style her hair for the night. Rather than the shorter pink spikes she occasionally saw fit to wear, she let her hair fall longer to her bare shoulders for tonight. She walked at a brisk pace, glad the weather wasn't too cool on her bare legs as she had chosen to not wear tights with her skirt. Tonks thought she did a good job of dressing as a muggle this night. Making sure to imitate her muggle cousin and wearing a simple black skirt, t-shirt (stylishly tattered and falling off her shoulders), and low-heeled black leather boots that stopped at her knees. Her wand expertly hidden in her fitted jean jacket.

It was a rare occurrence that she was surrounded by muggles. Unusual, because although she spent most of her time in London, she didn't often find herself on the muggle side of town. Tonks typically could be found at the Ministry of Magic, which was hidden to eyes of Muggles. On a normal Friday evening as of late, she spent her time slaving away at the Ministry, covered under the piles and piles of paperwork she was now responsible for. For the past ten years Tonks worked as an Auror in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Although the title was fancy, and the occupation was generally revered in the wizarding world, Tonks would admit - only under duress- that compared to previous generations, things had mostly been quiet for the current Aurors. She started in the program when she was 18, after finishing her last year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Tonks who had excelled academically, was an easy shoo-in for the program due to her unique inherited talent of being a Metamorphmagus. She received a quick acceptance to the Auror program after she put in her application. It was only Professor Snape who threatened to withhold a recommendation based on her occasional involvement in mischief.

Since the death of You-Know-Who back in 1981 there were far fewer occurrences of witches and wizards using dark magic to gain unseemly influence in the wizarding world. Although the older Aurors complained about the lack of interesting work, Tonks enjoyed a relatively quiet apprenticeship with few injuries. Injuries that occurred outside of her own influence. Tonks could often find herself losing her footing, and was known to often trip. Despite being one of the best students in the program during her year, she barely squeaked by in stealth training. A small price to pay, Tonks cheerfully thought as she stumbled on an errant cobblestone. Her cousin righted her before they continued their journey.

There weren't many magicals who could change their appearance at will, without the use of a wand, potions, or a complicated spell. Tonks' metamorphic abilities came in handy the few times she had to go undercover as an Auror.

Tonks worked in a peaceful wizarding world, but that didn't mean that all was well. Their world still bore the wounds of the You-Know-Who's reign. Muggleborn witches and wizards, though generally got by well enough after Hogwarts, tended to get passed over for important promotions in any prominent position. There had only been one Muggleborn, a wizard, Jones, who made it into the Auror academy this year.

And lately Tonks noticed increasing episodes of discrimination and incidents against Muggleborns and Muggles, which was what kept her so late at the Ministry.

Tonks could remember when she first noticed the change. It had been four years ago when Albus Dumbledore, the Greatest Wizard in recent history, died quite unexpectedly. Tonks remembered the day when the Aurors were called to Hogwarts to investigate the body of the old wizard, who had been found slumped over his desk by the distraught Transfiguration professor and Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall. It seemed an uncouth passing for the great Wizard but despite the thorough investigation, it had been unclear what killed the seasoned wizard. The only clue was his right hand, which had been found blackened against the rest of his pale skin. Struck by a curse, however the best curse breakers on the Isle were unable to determine what exactly the curse was. Albus Dumbledore had died leaving many questions in his wake. Questions that had been quickly shoved under the rug by Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, who declared in an interview to the Daily Prophet that Dumbledore had ultimately died of old age.

It was after Albus Dumbledore's death that activity began stirring in the wizarding work that only initially troubled the older, war-hardened Aurors. The ones that were old enough to remember what life was like when You-Know-Who was in power. They could remember the turmoil, fear, and suspicion that ruled over the average wizard's daily life.

Tonks' former mentor, the old Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody was among the first to put the pieces together. It was one year ago, almost to the day that Tonks was in St. Mungos, healing from a particularly nasty curse she took to her right arm. She had been in Liverpool, following a lead on a rumored attack that was being planned by a Wizard barely out of Hogwarts, Theodore Nott. It was rumored that he was gathering a group of other purebloods who were also the children of former Death Eaters, and they were planning some sort of violent demonstration in Diagon Alley She had been partnered for this mission with a new graduated Auror, a tall, wiry wizard by the name of Alucious Albright. They had been attacked by a group of four wizards in what the Ministry officially called "a random, irrelevant attack." According to the official Ministry report, the attackers had no mission and did not appear to be organized, and it was unfortunate that two Aurors were hurt in the scrimmage.

Mad-Eye was the only Auror who came to visit her while she nursed her wounds at St. Mungos. It was considered embarrassing to have your Auror colleagues visit you in the hospital after an injury, and most didn't do it to respect the fallen Auror's pride. She remembered sitting on the sterile hospital bed, watching petulantly as the healer rewrapped the burnt, flaking skin with gauze covered in healing paste. The young healer shook her head in confusion as she observed Tonks' wounds, which had barely improved from the night before.

"Your skin hasn't healed nearly as much as we would have expected," the healer said as she observed Tonks with a concerned look on her dark face, "I'll have to consult with the Chief Healer. We really should see more improvement at this point." The Healer looked up. She gave Tonks a pinched smile, as if realizing that her words were more concerning than comforting. "It might take a few extra days to get healed, but we'll fix you right up." She patted Tonks on her uninjured arm and returned to work.

Tonks didn't respond. She let the nurse finish gauzing the arm and leaned back into her bed after the nurse had left. She had her own room, thankfully. She briefly considered getting up and checking in on Alucious, whom she knew was in the room next to her. He had been wounded with the same curse, but on his face. Tonks couldn't shake the image of his melting skin from her mind as she ruminated at the events that led to their hospitalization. If only she had been quicker, or she hadn't been distracted by the muggles across the road who were drunkenly cat-calling her. If only she had -

"Nasty curse you got there," she heard a deep, gruff voice state from the door, interrupting her negative ruminations. Tonks knew the voice belonged to Mad Eye and opened her eyes, staring at her old mentor. Moody's face, deeply scarred as if carved in wood, stared back at her. His electric blue magical right eye scanned the room, as if checking for bugs, while his other eye - small and dark, stared fixedly at her. The small chunk of his nose, that had been missing for as long as she's known him added to his startling appearance.

"Hurts like hell, too," Tonks responded. "Wotcher," she said as she watched as Moody walked, or hobbled, to the chair that was located next to her bed. His wooden right leg making a sharp noise on the clean white linoleum floor. He sat, with more grace than one would expect from the crippled man.

Moody leaned back into the chair, crossing his arms against his chest. "Suppose you don't know what hit you?" he asked, now turning his magical eye on her. "That's what your notes say."

"Oi!" Tonks responded. "It's illegal to look at my medical records," she said as she glared at him. At Moody's unwavering stare, Tonks shrugged, once again leaning back into the bed. "Told them I didn't hear the curse they used. Came out purple and stung like hell."

Moody nodded, staring at her pensively. Tonks waited for Moody to speak, but it was nearly half a minute with nothing being said between the two of them.

Tonks sighed and rolled her eyes. "I'm not sure I'm in the mood to guess right now, Moody," Tonks said. "Seems like you know something about this."

Moody didn't appear to be affected at all by Tonks' frustration. Instead, he leaned so far back in the chair that Tonks briefly feared that he would tip right over. He finally began to speak again. "The last time I saw that curse was in 1981. They call it the _Ustura_ curse. Boils you right up from the inside." Moody stopped speaking momentarily to swat at a fly that had buzzed in the room, killing it. "Course, when I saw it the victims were never alive. You're lucky. It looks like an amateur got you and Albright."

Tonks blinked at him and Moody stared back. Then, suddenly, Moody leaned forward in his chair with a piercing gaze. "You know what's happening, don't you?" he asked needlessly.

"'Course I do," Tonks whispered, letting her eyes close briefly, "We've been noticing it now, yeah?" She breathed out deeply, in an attempt to calm her worsening nerves. "But why? Why now?"

"Albus is dead," Moody replied in a blunt tone. "Him being all powerful kept everyone in line. No one wanted to cross the one wizard You-Know-Who was afraid of. Just Albus and -" Moody paused.

"Just Albus and who?" Tonks asked. She bit the bottom of her lip as she watched Moody struggle against an invisible restraint that caused his lips to move in an errant fashion but no words to come out.

"The spell should've never lasted this long," Moody muttered to himself, finally, appearing to give up on whatever he meant to say.

"Just Albus and _who_?" Tonks asked again, leaning forward in her bed. It was nearing lunch time and she knew the healer's assistant would interrupt their conversation soon to bring her a plate of miserable hospital food. They only had so much time to finish this discussion.

Moody let out a frustrated growl and slapped his large hand on Tonks' bedside table, startling her.

"I can't tell you," he said finally, giving up. His voice was quiet. Tonks thought he sounded perplexed…and almost impressed, to her utter confusion. "The old codger put a spell on me that hasn't ended even though he's been dead three years now." Moody again focused his non-magical eye on Tonks.

"He's protected the boy more than you know," Moody broke his gaze from Tonks' confused face and shook his head. He pushed up from his chair, standing to his full height. "More than anyone will ever know it looks like." He moved towards the door and went to open it before looking back at Tonks, who had been staring at him.

"I've got a lead I need to follow," Moody said as he opened the door, "I'll be in touch."

"You're retired!" Tonks yelled from her bed at the shut door. She shook her head and flopped unceremoniously back in her bed as she thought about their perplexing encounter.

That encounter with Moody occurred last year and Tonks hadn't heard from him since that visit. She tried on numerous occasions to reach him but he seemed to have gone deep underground.

The wind blew and Tonks shivered, moving closer to her cousin for warmth. Piper grinned and reached her arm over Tonks, letting it fall on her shoulders as they huddled together for the rest of their walk. Tonks shook her head, letting her curly hair bounce and hit her cheeks as she refocused her attention back to the present. It was Piper's Hen night! She wouldn't let herself get distracted by the goings-on in the wizarding world. She was determined to enjoy herself. This event brought Tonks out from her typical Friday night of late, which had been occupied by lonely nights at the Ministry Auror office, completing paperwork and assessing the chatter around the recent increase of dark magic assaults. She was here to relax, and she had to stop letting her troubles in the wizarding world affect her cousin's night.

Their small party included Piper's two mates from secondary school, Joanie and Cat, who were walking ahead of Tonks and Piper, leading the way to their destination. Piper was only a year younger than Tonks and was a relative from her muggleborn father's side. Piper and Tonks grew up fairly close although now mostly keeping in contact on holidays and birthdays. Prior to leaving for Hogwarts at age 11, Tonks attended primary school with Piper for a disastrous year before her mum decided that it was unfitting to continue obliviating muggles whenever Tonks experienced accidental magic.

Despite being closely related, Piper was completely unaware of Tonks' magical nature. This was the closely held secret of Ted Tonks, who in complying with the Statue of Secrecy, made sure to keep his muggle family members in the dark about the secret world that existed right under their noses. Although their lives had taken two completely different routes after Tonks left for Hogwarts, they managed to remain close. Piper had a familiarity with Tonks that others in their family didn't share and of all of their cousins, it was Tonks who Piper asked to be in her wedding this spring. Tonks accepted the invitation, of course, although feebly acknowledging that Piper was the last of her cousins to get married and at nearly 29-years-old, Tonks was still very single.

Soon, the small party reached their destination, a dive bar called The Middle East. She had been here before with Piper, a year or so ago and Tonks grinned sardonically as it was only Piper who would choose to celebrate her Hen night at a dingy bar, in order to watch her favorite band. The bartender, an old man with an unfriendly expression grunted when their party walked in.

There were only three men who occupied this level of the bar. They were older men and Tonks swore she saw all three men in her few previous trips to the bar. Probably sitting in the same stools, in fact. The men were ignoring the loud music that caused their worn chairs to vibrate. Piper led the way to the basement of the Middle East, where the music grew louder, and lights were dimmed.

"They're not coming on until later. This is just one of the opening bands!" Piper yelled. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the loud cymbals of the drummer. The basement of the Middle East was dark, and quite dank as basements are, but was deceptively large. Despite the generally unappealing atmosphere, the place was currently packed with a mixed crowd of sweaty young adults and teenagers. Dancing, or nodding their heads to the band currently playing. Piper escorted her party to the table that had been reserved for their group. It was located on the outside of the main pit and it was the only table available in the space. Tonks' figured that Piper convinced the grumpy old bartender to make an exception for his favorite regular.

"Gods, Dora, I still don't know how you get your hair to look so natural," Joanie said as she twirled a few strands of Tonks' hair in her hands, a speculative look on her face, "It's like it's coming from your roots purple."

Tonks winked and settled back into the chair and watched as the crowd in the center of the club danced excitedly at the bad who was currently playing. She watched as a set of fruity-looking drinks were brought to their table by a colorfully dressed bartender. She reached forward and picked up a pink drink that was tall and looked appropriately full of alcohol. She tried to ignore that of all the hands reaching forward at the table, hers was the only one that wasn't flashing a large diamond ring. She took a swig of drink to shut down the quelling feeling that was rising in her stomach as she acknowledged to herself the fact that everyone else at their table with was married, or engaged like her cousin Piper. She didn't want to ruin Piper's hen night by lamenting her epically single status. She averted her eyes and desperately tried not to think of her last relationship that ended over a year ago now.

Tonks let her eyes roam over the colorful array of young muggles and their interesting fashion choices. Tonks briefly imagined going into the Ministry dressed like the young girl to the left of them, who was wearing hair spiked higher than Tonks would dare and colored a neon yellow. Tonks liked to live on the edge of what was considered appropriate behavior and dress for young Wizards and Witches, but an outfit like that would certainly lead to a forced visit to the St. Mungos spell damage ward for the mentally unfit.

Tonks let her eyes leave the crowd and gaze at the band playing, nodding to the beat of their music. The pace was fast, the guitars loud, and the lead singer melodically singing in a loud, angry voice. The singer leaned away from the microphone and the guitar and bass players stopped their fingers as the song led to a drum solo. Tonks' eyes slid over to the drummer and felt her heart stop.

The drink she had been holding fell and she heard the startled yelp of Cat, who was sitting next to her and had been splashed by the fallen drink. Tonks' glass shattered next to them. Cat's voice sounded distant as Tonks felt her vision tunnel and her breathing slow. She felt suddenly light-headed, as if she were about to faint.

Cat's concerned grasp of her arm, momentarily shook from her stupor as Tonks quickly apologized and absently padded her napkin on the spill. Her eyes stayed firm on her target. It was Harry Potter.

It was fucking Harry Potter.

The missing Harry Potter. The absent Harry Potter. The feared- _dead_ Harry Potter.

On September 1, 1991, Harry Potter never arrived at Kings Cross Station. Harry Potter never boarded the Hogwarts Express, and for all the wizarding world knew, Harry Potter had simply vanished. That was during Tonks' final year at school and she could vividly remember the turmoil caused by the absence of the Boy-Who-Lived.

The fact that Harry Potter never enrolled at Hogwarts seemed to be all the Daily Prophet would publish about for a year. The questions about where he was went unanswered. Albus Dumbledore had been famously tight-lipped. Never commenting on if he knew the location of the lost Boy-Who-Lived; or if Harry Potter were even alive.

After all, it had been Harry Potter that the wizarding world had to thank for the relative peace since the fall of You-Know-Who. It had been Harry Potter who had done the impossible and survived the one curse that no Wizard or Witch had survived before, the Killing Curse. As the story goes Voldemort went to the tiny village of Godric's Hollow to kill the entire Potter family, and had succeeded with the demise of James and Lily Potter. But when he tried to kill young Harry Potter, the curse had backfired. Voldemort was dead, and Harry Potter was alive, bearing a lightning-bolt shaped scar in the middle of his forehead. Nearly 21 years after the fall of You-Know-Who the story of Harry Potter still permeated in the wizarding world, almost becoming mythical. The missing boy with the lighting-bolt shaped scar.

Of course, the fact that Harry Potter was _missing_ from the wizarding world was no small story. It wasn't until over a year later that the wizarding press had finally come to terms with the fact that Harry Potter likely had left England and was being raised elsewhere. Efforts were made to outreach Dumstrang, Beauxbatons, and even Illvermony to question if Harry Potter was a student there came back fruitless.

After that scandalous year, the Wizarding press continued to occasionally post stories about the missing Boy-Who-Lived, speculating about where he could be. The Quibbler famously published an article from a Hogwarts student who reportedly sighted Harry in Germany. Sightings came from all over the world after that article had run, but Harry was never found and slowly the boy-who-lived became a distant memory for the wizarding world, remaining mostly a myth.

But here he was. Harry Potter was playing the drums in a band, in a dingy bar in London. It was just so _muggle._

Tonks squinted, her heart beating rapidly as she stared again the drummer. She felt sudden doubt. It just couldn't be him. She couldn't have gone out to a bar on a hen night with her cousin and her mates and run into _Harry Potter._ No, it had to be wrong.

She stared at him, her gaze intense and searching. She had only met James Potter once before he died. He was mates with her cousin Sirius. Despite it being a distant memory, she remembered the shockingly black hair that stuck out in odd angles. The tall, thin frame, and thin handsome face that was covered with wired square-rimmed spectacles.

This man looked remarkably like James Potter, but he wasn't wearing glasses. The man was seemingly lost in his own world, not looking at the audience as he expertly drummed. The song ended as Tonks watched him. He lifted the sleeve of his plain white t-shirt, soaked in sweat, showing an intricately inked arm as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Fit, isn't he?" Tonks heard her cousin say in her ear, laughing knowingly as she followed Tonks' gaze towards Harry, "I've seen them play a few times here. They're good."

Tonks took a deep breath in, steadying herself as she desperately tried to remain calm. She was an _Auror_ , for Merlin's sake. She wouldn't lose all of her training in this moment. "What are they called?"

Piper took a sip of her drink, "Umm," she said scrunching her eyebrows are she tried to remember, "I think they're called _Absent Minded,"_ Piper nodded to herself, "Yeah, they play in London mostly. They're local."

Tonks nodded and casually stood up from her chair. "I think I saw a table in the back there, yeah? Where the bands are selling their tapes? I think I'll check it out. Be right back," she said as she purposefully strolled from her table and entered the back area of the club's basement. There were 3 long tables set up against the back wall. Each displaying the colorful artwork from the bands playing that night.

She walked to the table that had a poster taped on the wall behind it with the image of an orange tabby cat, with the words "ABSENT MINDED" in large, bold letters, covering the cat's eyes. A young man, who didn't look to be much older than 18, was sitting next to the table with a money box, looking bored. He raised a pierced eyebrow at Tonks as she approached the table.

Tonks smiled at the kid, "you got tapes for them?" she said, nodding at the display.

"Just CDs," he responded nodding at the display of CDs.

"I'll take one. How much?" Tonks asked, grabbing her wallet from her jean jacket.

"Five quid," he responded grabbing one of the CDs from the table. They exchanged money and Tonks wandered to the side towards the wall that was away from the tables. Tonks could hear the next band start to play as she opened the case of the CD. The artwork on the front the same as the poster near their table.

Tonks took the out the book from the CD case and flipped it to the back page. In small type, plain as day, she found what she was looking for: _Drums: H. Potter._

Tonks nearly let the book fall from her weakened grasp as she once again could feel beat of her heart increasing at a frighteningly rapid pace. She fought to maintain her composure, taking in deep breaths as she willed her heart rate to decrease. She could see the same kid who sold her the record stare at her briefly before averting his eyes.

She walked back over to him. "They usually stay?" she asked, nodding to the door that was behind the display tables.

He nodded. "They stay in the back until the end usually, watch all the bands."

Tonks nodded to herself mostly. She had an hour or two to plan. Tonks nodded at the kid, thanking him before walking back to the table she shared with her cousin and friends.

"You alright there, Dora?" Piper asked, her blue eyes shadowed with concern.

Tonks nodded at Piper, "of course, Pipes!" Tonks yelled, once again letting her voice rise as the band on the stage started up a new song. "I'm going to get another drink," she said to the table. "Anyone else need one?" The ladies shook their heads and Tonks turned back towards the downstairs bar area.

She stood near the back of the crowd, blankly staring at the bottles of lager and stout that decorated the bar. She had to think quickly.

She now, without a doubt knew that it was Harry Potter that was playing in that band. She had to keep her mind straight. For all she knew, she was the only magical who had managed to run into the Wizard since he had missed that first train to Hogwarts. Piper's words bothered her. She called them a "local band," meaning that Harry Potter had been in London for at least the past few years and not a single witch or wizard had reported running into him.

Tonks left the bar, without ordering a drink and decided instead to step outside for fresh air. It was hard to concentrate inside the stifling air of the club and the loud music vibrating in her head.

Tonks soon found herself stalking the outside of dingy bar, pacing the alleyway as she attempted to come up with a plan. She had to introduce herself to Harry Potter. To let him know…

Tonks stopped in her tracks. What if Harry Potter had no idea who he was? What if he never knew about his magical heritage. The fact that she spotted Harry Potter in muggle London, playing in a muggle band increased her suspicions that Harry wasn't hiding from the wizarding world. He couldn't have been. It just didn't make sense.

Tonks watched the street lamp flicker against the dark sky, casting shadows of the bins on the wall of the alley. She had an awful thought. Almost too awful to let herself finish. What if…what if defeating You-Know-Who removed Harry's wizarding ability. What if Harry Potter was a _squib?_

Tonks flopped back against the wall and stared at the door across from her. This was the door to the area where the bands hung out after shows. She tapped her foot against the dirty ground, littered with cigarette butts, and almost went back inside before she heard a soft click.

The door opened with a swing and Tonks tumbled backwards, landing on hard on her bum and scraping the palms of her hands. But she barely felt the pain caused by her fall when she looked up and saw that it was Harry Potter standing next to the door, with an apologetic expression on his face.

"Sorry!" she heard him say, as he approached her, "didn't realize someone was standing back there. Are you hurt?"

Tonks shook her head slowly. There was no mistaking this. Looming over her with an outreached hand to help her up was none other than Harry Potter. Harry-fucking-Potter with the lightning bolt scar on his head. After a moment too long, Tonks took his hand, allowing him to help her up.

"Looks like you took a hard fall," Harry said when she stood up fully and absently brushed the dirt from her skirt. Harry Potter was taller than her and she looked up to get a good look at his face. Not caring in the moment how awkward she must look, observing him with such intensity. Harry Potter had bright green eyes, that were currently staring at her in concern. She noticed that he was now wearing glasses, with black thick square frames. He also appeared to have changed outfit, now wearing a plain long-sleeved white t-shirt and jeans and a thin black rain jacket.

"Wotcher," Tonks said finally, clearing her throat. "Liked the show tonight," she said awkwardly. "You lot play often?" Tonks asked.

She watched as Harry shoved his hands into his coat pocket. He shrugged, "no, not much anymore. We only open now for bands we used to tour with when they come back to London." Harry shifted the black backpack in his arm. "Sure you're alright, then?"

Tonks nodded, "'S'okay. I've had harder falls," she absently rubbed her backside before quickly stopping, as she realized how she looked. She felt her face warm as it turned pink as Harry smirked at her.

Tonks cleared her throat, "I'm just here for my cousin's hen night. Never heard of you before, thought you sounded pretty smashing."

Harry smiled, and Tonks couldn't help but notice just how vibrantly green his eyes were.

"Thanks," Harry responded, "it's been awhile since we last played. I'm glad you thought we weren't shit."

Tonks shook her head. "No, not shite. You leaving?"

"Yeah," Harry replied. "It's getting a bit late, thought I'd head back."

"What? There's no after party or anything?" Tonks asked.

"Guess I can go ask the guys if you want to stay out?" he asked, gesturing towards the closed door. "I don't usually do the after parties anymore, but they still have them."

Tonks shook her head. "No, just wondering. Seems a bit of waste to end the night here, though," Tonks said, stifling the wince at her corny words. She didn't mean to sound like she was chatting him up but she needed to learn more.

Harry chuckled and awkwardly brushed at his messy hair while Tonks stood silently, slightly mortified. "I don't think I've caught your name," he said finally.

"Dora," Tonks responded, reaching out her hand.

"Harry," he said, shaking her hand firmly. Tonks thought the handshake lingered more than what was completely necessary. She dropped his hand as the loud bang of the back door opening again startled them both. Sounds of laughter permeated the air through the open door as a man stumbled outside with a cig in his lips and lighter in his hand. Tonks recognized him as the lead singer of the band Harry played in. She saw the man do a double-take as he noticed her and Harry standing in the alleyway.

The man shook his head as he glanced at both Harry and Tonks, lingering on her face for a moment. "This what you had to rush out of here for? Another one?" The man asked Harry, his eyes were steely and Tonks could see Harry stiffen next to her, standing taller.

"Leave it, Marty," Harry replied, his tone sharp.

Marty ignored Harry, and stuck out his hand towards Tonks, "Marty Needham." Marty's words were slurred and Tonks could see Harry shift beside her as she quickly shook his hand.

"You want to come to the back?" Marty asked. He pointed at the door. "Or did Harry here already convince you to go home with him?" he finished coolly.

Tonks smirked and raised an eyebrow towards Harry, "He's got a bit more work to do for that."

Tonks could see Harry blush, as he fumbled before answering, "I really do have to head back."

Marty eyed him for a moment before turning back towards Tonks as he waited for her to respond. Tonks shook her head. " I think I'll pass tonight," she answered.

Marty shrugged and turned towards Harry, "I'm sick of Lucy squatting at my flat in tears over you, mate," he said before turning around and stumbling back towards the door to reenter the club, his mission to smoke his cigarette seemingly forgotten.

Harry and Tonks watched him go, the brief sounds of high pitched laughter and shouting again pierced the dark air before the door shut again.

"Well," Tonks said after a moment. "He seems quite cross with you."

Harry snorted, "I guess I'm not his favorite person right now."

"You break his heart?" Tonks asked.

This time Harry really laughed. "No, no," he said, shaking his head. "That's not it at all. " Harry ran his hand through his hair, as if trying to flatten it, "I'll have to let him know that one when he's cooled down a bit."

Tonks watched as shifted his backpack again to his other arm, "Well, it was nice meeting you, Dora. If you're alright, I should get going," he said, trailing off as he gestured towards the exit of the alleyway.

"Going far? You want to split a cabbie?" Tonks asked.

Harry shook his head, "I'm in the neighborhood, just a quick walk for me," he shrugged, "didn't you say you were here on a hen night?"

Tonks nodded, "I am," she answered, suddenly remembering Piper and her friends. She couldn't think of a reason to keep Harry in the alleyway with her. She briefly considered stunning him and dragging him to the Ministry but she knew that would go rather poorly; he wasn't a criminal. She had to be strategic about this and act like the Auror she had been for the past decade. She knew enough, already, to find him again at least. Tonks inwardly flinched, as she knew she still didn't have an answer about Harry's magical abilities, if they even existed.

Tonks stood in the alleyway, watching Harry as he walked away. "Fuck," Tonks whispered to herself, "That was Harry Potter."

TBC

10


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: 31 July 1991

Harry Potter was having a bad day. Honestly, it was a miserable day, if he was going to make an assessment of things. It was his 11th birthday, and while most children would wake up on their birthday in excitement for their presents and perhaps even a party, Harry did not wake up feeling that way at all. In fact, he woke up in his dark cupboard that he's lived in for most of his life without a present in sight. Harry was still being punished for the _incident_ that happened at his cousin Dudley's birthday party. It was now over a month ago that Harry joined Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, Dudley, and Dudley's friend Piers Polkiss for a day at the London Zoo. Harry had not planned on being at the zoo that day, but his regular minder when his relatives went out on a fun activity; Mrs Figg was hurt and unable to care for him.

Harry knew that no one wanted him there to celebrate Dudley's birthday. His cousin, who was normally spoiled rotten, couldn't believe that Harry was going to be allowed to ruin his special day. Dudley, upon learning that his parents had no choice but to bring Harry with them, cried and threw a tantrum until Uncle Vernon promised to purchase him even more gifts while they were out. But Harry, who had secretly enjoyed the idea of going to a zoo, knew his situation was precarious. He had tried to stay out of the way of Dudley's piggy hands, that were liable to strike unexpectedly; and Piers' bony hands that could strike with a surprising amount of force.

Harry had done a good job of avoiding his cousin and his rat-faced friend throughout the day. He made sure to stay a yard behind them during their visit. He took extra time to read the signs around the animals (which led to Dudley scoffing at him for being 'slow' and dimwitted). This technique only partially worked, as he would eventually be dragged by his Uncle Vernon after Dudley complained about Harry slowing them all down. Harry could see Dudley and Piers smirk and laugh loudly when Uncle Vernon yelled at Harry for asking the zookeeper a question about the orangutans.

Despite the threat of Uncle Vernon's anger, Aunt Petunia disapproving glares, and Dudley and Piers bullying, Harry was having the most fun he could remember having all summer. He was able to walk around in the sun and observe not only the animals but the other families and groups of kids. It was nearing the end of their trip, at the reptilian house, were Harry's fortunes turned for the worse. Harry couldn't really even say what the incident was that got him in trouble. One moment, he was nicely (he thought) chatting with a sad Brazilian snake when suddenly, the glass enclosure disappeared and the snake slithered away from his cage, leaving screaming families in his wake as Harry heard him hiss his pleasure at finally being free.

Harry waved goodbye at his new friend until Uncle Vernon angrily grabbed his arm. When Harry looked up at his puce-coloured face, mouth nearly foaming with rage, Harry knew that he was going to be in more trouble than he had ever been in before. Without saying a word, Uncle Vernon dragged Harry to the car, Aunt Petunia, Dudley, and Piers following, and drove back to their neighbourhood of Little Whinging. After making a quick stop to drop Piers at home, the Dursleys and Harry returned to their home on Privet Drive house Number 4, and Harry was thoroughly punished for the "freakishness" that he once again displayed.

This wasn't the only "freakish" incident that Harry could remember doing over the years. There were a few other occasions that Harry could remember, where odd things happened around him that he couldn't explain easily. And each time it would happen and his Aunt and Uncle were informed, Harry would be punished. But this was the worst punishment he could remember.

That was over a month ago now and Harry didn't know when his prolonged punishment would end. Harry spent every day this summer in his cupboard, only let out to make breakfast and dinner, and to do chores around the house. On his better days, Harry would be allowed do chores in the garden, which would provide him with some much-needed sun rays. He often watched enviously as Dudley left every morning for hours on a new bicycle that he received for his birthday. Dudley of course, thought Harry being in trouble was all very funny and would attempt to torment Harry by telling his parents loud, bragging stories about all the "innocent" fun he had engaged in during the day.

Harry Potter was having a very difficult summer, indeed.

So Harry, now age 11, sat slumped in the small broom cupboard that he had called his bedroom since he was placed in the Dursley's home all those years ago.

For not the first time in his short life, Harry closed his eyes and imaged that he was with his parents. He didn't know what his mum and dad even looked like but he would imagine the two faceless adults. Harry had asked once to see a picture and Aunt Petunia snarled at him a reminder to never ask questions. She later told him that she didn't have any pictures of his parents. Harry didn't understand why his Aunt and Uncle refused to tell him about his parents. He only knew snippets of information that he would overhear them speak when other adults asked after him.

"They were drunks," he remembered hearing Aunt Petunia say once with a sniff to Harry's grade 2 teacher Ms Appleton during conferences. Aunt Petunia clutched her purse to her chest in practised deference. "Killed in an accident on the M6, we've had the boy since he was 15 months."

Harry could remember the sadness he felt when he heard his aunt speak so callously of his parents. The only family he knew was the Dursleys. And they _hated_ Harry. No, Aunt Petunia and even Uncle Vernon never said to his face that they hated him but Harry knew it. He could tell by the way that Aunt Petunia glared at him contempt every morning. Or the angry shouts he would receive from Uncle Vernon if he spoke out of turn.

Harry opened his eyes again, focusing his eyes on the drawing he etched on the wall in a place that only he could see. Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and not even Dudley could really fit in his cupboard. There were areas that only he had access to that he draw and write whatever he wanted. It was a small space, and Harry only really wrote down things that were important. If Aunt Petunia knew he was drawing on her walls, he would surely find himself with a sore bottom.

Harry turned over in his bed and felt his stomach rumble. It was early morning now and soon he would have to get up to make breakfast for the Dursleys.

Harry couldn't wait until summer was over and he could return to school and be able to leave the house every day. What Harry really looked forward to with this new school year was that Dudley would be attending boarding school at Smelting's Academy. Dudley so far spent the summer celebrating his admission to the prestigious academy by trying on the funny-looking knickerbockers every other day while his mother preened at him, and hitting Harry with the school "hitting" stick whenever Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon weren't watching.

Harry wasn't going to go off to some fancy boarding school starting in September. Harry was going to the local high school, Stonehill. Harry didn't actually care that the Dursleys weren't sending him somewhere nice; it's not like he ever expected them to spend more money on him than what was absolutely necessary. Harry was just happy that he was finally going to be at a different school than his cousin. Maybe this year, Harry thought, he would be able to make friends of his own. Finally, he could have friends who wouldn't shy away from him under the threat of Dudley and his gang. The thought was enough to put a small smile on his face.

A sharp knock on the door startled Harry from his thoughts. He looked up as his small cupboard door opened.

"Up!" he heard his Aunt Petunia hiss at him. She poked her long neck through the door and glared at him.

"Good morning, Aunt Petunia," Harry mumbled as he slinked out of bed and began folding the sheets back. He turned his back to the door and he heard Aunt Petunia shut the door behind her, not acknowledging Harry's greeting.

Harry sighed. It would be another birthday then, where nothing would be different. Harry quickly dressed and stumbled out of his cupboard. He would be late to start breakfast if he lingered too long.

He exited the cupboard and walked down the narrow hallway that was covered in hanged pictures of the Dursley family; mostly of Dudley. He ignored them as he turned left into the entryway of the kitchen.

His Aunt Petunia was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at him disapprovingly with pursed lips. She seemed particularly cross with him this morning, although Harry didn't know why. Harry walked to the fridge and got out the bacon before preparing the stove to start breakfast. Breakfast was nearly ready when Uncle Vernon walked downstairs, dressed in his suit and tie and ready to go to work for the day at Grunnings, the drilling company he worked for.

Uncle Vernon kissed his wife on the cheek and Harry fought the urge to grimace. He saw Uncle Vernon glared at him through the corner of his eyes. "Good morning, Uncle Vernon," Harry said.

Uncle Vernon grunted in response. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia sat in silence as Harry plated their meals of eggs, bacon, and toast. Harry made sure to put the most food on Uncle Vernon's and Dudley's plate. A smaller plate was set aside for Aunt Petunia, and an even smaller plate was left for Harry.

Harry glanced back at the kitchen table to see Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon tutting at some article in the morning's paper. He grabbed a small piece of bacon that was left in the fryer and hastily stuffed it in his pocket before his relatives looked up again.

Harry heard Uncle Vernon muttering angrily about whatever was in the news as he wrestled the papers back together. Aunt Petunia occasionally making sounds in agreement as his Uncle made disparaging comments about the local Labour leaders. Harry allowed himself to roll eyes with his back still turned before turning off the burner and gathering his Aunts and Uncles plate and leading it to the table.

They began eating without acknowledging Harry's efforts, and he turned back to grab his own plate and sit in the seat farthest away from them. He began slowly eating, tuning out the boring conversation that they were engaged in and glanced out the window that was above the kitchen sink.

The sun was shining through the clean window panes and Harry could see the bright blue sky with not a cloud in sight. He let himself close his eyes for a moment, imagine that he was in the kitchen eating breakfast with his own mum and dad. They had cooked for him and they were smiling at him, singing 'happy birthday' as Harry sat happily in front of a large ice cake.

He imagined that if his parents were here, they would let him outside on his birthday. They would allow him to enjoy the warm sun as he peddled a bike through the neighbourhood and met up with friends to cliff dive in the local quarries. Harry felt himself smile.

"What are you smiling about over there, boy?" he heard his Uncle Vernon snap at him. His Uncle's beady dark eyes were squinted at him in suspicion.

Harry bit back the sarcastic reply that was bubbling around him. He opened his eyes and shook head. "Nothing, Uncle Vernon," Harry answered before went back to eating his breakfast. Harry could see Uncle Vernon give him an appraising look before he turned back to the newspaper, content enough to ignore Harry and complain about the rest of the world again.

Finally, just before everyone else finished breakfast, Dudley waddled down the steps to join them all in the kitchen. Harry stood, even though he hadn't finished his own plate, and went to grab Dudley's plate that was left on the still-warm stove. He brought the plate to the table as Dudley fell heavily on to the seat that was next to his parents. Dudley sneered at him as Harry returned to his own seat.

"Good morning, Dudley!" his Aunt Petunia preened. "Are you well Diddykins? You slept so late." She put her hand to his forehead as if it to check his temperature.

"Leave the boy alone, Petunia" Uncle Vernon dismissed with a laugh as the ruffled Dudley's short blond locks. "It's only healthy that a growing young man such as you sleeps in once in a while." Uncle Vernon folded his worn newspaper and smiled at his son.

Dudley smiled contritely before he began scarfing his breakfast down. As Harry was finished with his meal, he began gathering his plate and brought it to the sink to be washed. He distantly listened as Aunt Petunia and Dudley reviewed their plans for the day and Uncle Vernon complained (or bragged) about the many important meetings he had on his schedule.

Harry nodded when Aunt Petunia instructed him to work in the garden today. Harry Potter's eleventh birthday was shaping up to be just like every other birthday he had at the Dursley's home. Harry supposed he should feel grateful that at least he wasn't going to be locked inside, or locked in the cupboard during the day. But that was only a small comfort as he finished washing and drying the dishes. He sighed as he left the kitchen and went to the entryway towards the front door to gather the gardening tools and start on his list of outdoor tasks.

The day passed by slowly under the warm rays of the sun. Harry lingered on his tasks, which allowed him to spend as much time as possible outdoors. It was nearing dinner time and the whole day passed without any of the Dursleys acknowledging his birthday but Harry almost didn't care anymore. So what, if his stupid fat cousin and his mean Aunt and Uncle didn't wish him a happy birthday? It wasn't like they ever have in the past. He scoffed at the thought of them doing more than just giving him angry looks and snapping at him whenever he did anything that would warrant general acknowledgement of his existence.

Harry finished his chores outdoors and was able to get a bit of lie in before starting dinner. He dutifully cooked the recipe that his aunt laid out for him on the small index card. They ate their dinner of chicken and vegetables and left Harry to clean when it all done.

It wasn't until near sundown that evening when their evening routine of the elder Dursleys watching the news on the television in the living room, Dudley playing video games upstairs in his bedroom, and Harry cleaning the dishes from dinner in the kitchen when there was a knock on the door. Harry was so startled by the sound that he nearly dropped the dinner plate that he had been drying.

He heard the volume on the telly lower, Richard Smith's weather forecast becoming nearly intelligible. The couch squeaked as what Harry assumed was Vernon stood from his spot in the sitting room. "Who's that?" Uncle Vernon asked, sounding irritable as he began walking down the hall, past Harry who had begun putting the dish to the side. He left the sink to stand closer to the kitchen door, getting a good view of the front door.

"Who would be so rude to call at this time of night?" he heard his Uncle Vernon say as he loudly walked down the hall, the quick steps of his girth caused the pictures on the walls to rattle as he moved. Aunt Petunia walked quickly behind him.

Harry heard Uncle Vernon open the door with an aggressive shake.

"You…you!" Harry heard Aunt Petunia shriek. Harry startled at the sound of his Aunt's yell then stood very still. Slowly, Harry put the plate he was drying in the cabinet and inched towards the kitchen door, his hand clutching the wet towel.

"Petunia," he heard a voice that he didn't recognize. It was the voice of an old man, though the voice wasn't feeble like one might expect. The voice was deep, and powerful, and friendly despite Aunt Petunia's rude greeting.

There was a momentary pause before he heard the voice speak again, "I do admit that it has been some time since we last met but I rather expected a different greeting."

Harry quietly walked towards the kitchen door and opened it. He peeked down the hallway, where he saw the oddest looking man he could ever remember seeing standing in the entryway. The man was tall, very tall, and thin. He was probably the oldest man Harry ever saw, with long grey hair and a long grey beard that nearly past his waist. He was dressed oddly too, wearing what almost appeared to be a black robe that was partially covered by a bright blue cloak. On his face, he wore half-moon spectacles over his long, thin nose. He looked quite thoroughly out of place in the entry hall of 4 Privet Drive.

"How _dare_ you come here," he heard his Aunt Petunia hiss at the strange man. Her voice was low but seeping with anger. "After all these years! With no note, no warning!"

The man, who had been wearing a serene smile on his old wrinkled face looked calmly back at his Aunt Petunia. "I suppose this is quite unexpected of me to be here, Petunia," he said. "Although, I do recall sending a note announcing my arrival."

"With a bloody bird," Aunt Petunia snapped. Harry stifled a gasp at hearing his aunt swear, which she _never_ did. "How dare you come here, dressed like that, to my home? What do you want? We've done all that you've asked of us. _He's_ still here."

His last Aunt's words startled him. Was it possible that this strange man was here to see him? Harry couldn't remember ever having a visitor to the home. He peered again at the man and watched silently as the man and his Aunt engaged in a staring contest.

"I have been standing here for some time, Petunia," the man said pleasantly after a few moments, ignoring his aunt's inhospitable behaviour. "I do imagine that your neighbour in Number 6 is quite curious about why you haven't let me in." The man turned towards the aforementioned home and lifted his wrinkled hand to give a jaunty wave.

Aunt Petunia let out an indignant squawk at his words but quickly stepped aside, letting the strange man enter the home. She shut the door behind him perhaps more firmly than she normally would.

Uncle Vernon, who had been standing watching the exchange with a bewildered look on his face, puffed out his chest. "You're one of them aren't you?" He said, pointing his stubby finger at the man.

"I suppose I am one of them if I understand you correctly."

Uncle Vernon moved menacingly forward, but the man did not stumble back or acknowledge his movement at all, really. He turned to Aunt Petunia again.

"I do think it's time that I speak with him," the old man said. His tone was sharper this time and Aunt Petunia grimaced.

He watched as the old man waited for Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon to lead him further into the home. Harry startled as suddenly, the man looked down the hall towards the kitchen. They locked eyes and Harry, who normally would make sure no visitor to the home ever saw him, met his gaze, his curiosity over the man's appearance, and Aunt Petunia's reaction to him, too great to ignore.

"Mr Potter," the man said, not breaking their eye contact. "It is truly wonderful to see you." The man's voice was full of familiarity and emotion, which only confused Harry further.

Harry didn't respond, unsure of what to make of everything that was happening. Uncle Vernon quickly stepped in front of the man, blocking Harry's view. "Now you see here-"

"It is the time that Mr Potter and I spoke," the man said, interrupting Uncle Vernon's tirade.

Uncle Vernon turned an unhealthy red colour as he sputtered in indigent anger.

"That was the agreement, was it not?" the man said, once again interrupting Uncle Vernon. "You did know I would meet with him this year."

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't speak. They glared at Harry, as he slowly left his post from the kitchen door and walked down to the entryway to greet this strange man.

Harry stopped in front of him. The man leaned down to meet Harry's height and lifted his arm, and took Harry's hand in a brief handshake. He could see the man appraising his appearance, skinny and small as he was. The man had bright, expressive blue eyes that shone behind the half-moon spectacles.

"My name, Harry, is Albus Dumbledore and I'm afraid it's been quite some time since we last met."

"Harry Potter," Harry responded, stumbling briefly over his own name. He couldn't remember ever meeting this man, and he thought he would remember such a presence.

"You were quite young," Mr Dumbledore stated as if he read Harry's thoughts. "Just barely over a year old."

Harry was silent, taking this new information in. Mr Dumbledore stood backup straitening his posture and looked to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, who had been standing to the side of the entryway, staring at the pair with looks of loathing.

"Is there a place in this lovely home where we can sit and talk?" Mr Dumbledore asked his relatives.

Uncle Vernon spluttered but Aunt Petunia put her small hand on his arm, silencing him. His Uncle gave Aunt Petunia a look of bewilderment before she gave a curt nod, and walked towards their keeping room, Harry and Mr Dumbledore followed behind. Harry watched as Aunt Petunia waved them in, and then stood in the doorway.

"Perhaps," Mr Dumbledore began, "we should have this conversation in private. Petunia, if you don't mind."

Aunt Petunia scowled at the man before turning and exiting the room without argument, her earlier rage seemingly tempered.

Harry sat in the pristine room, on the floral couch. His small body was further dwarfed by the large cushions and decorative pillows. He felt nervous as watched as the old man takes the seat directly across from him. It was a large cushioned chair that Uncle Vernon favoured when he would have clients over for important meetings. The seat was worn by the years of overuse but the man, Mr Albus, sat gracefully in the chair as he observed Harry. As he sat his long white beard touched his knees and Albus casually whisked it to the side.

The sat silent for a moment and Harry's thoughts raced as he wondered what possibly this man with the funny name could want with him.

"Sir," Harry finally said. "Are you from the school?"

Albus gave him a friendly smile. "School? " he asked.

"Stonewall," Harry said. "I'm meant to start there next month. Are you from there?"

Albus lightly shook his head. "No dear boy, I'm not from Stonewall." Mr Albus leaned back into his seat. "I must admit, it has been some time since I've had to have this conversation. Forgive me, if I seem to speak out of order."

Harry watched him, confused. "Sir?"

"Harry, you perhaps have noticed that strange, unexplainable things have happened to you. Things that perhaps other children can't do," Mr Albus stated.

Harry squirmed under Albus' searching stare. He thought of the snake that he could understand at the zoo. Or the time that his Aunt trimmed his hair so short that he practically bald with only a hint of a fringe to cover the lightning bolt scar on his forehead this his aunt hated so much. Harry also thought of the time he was running from Dudley's gang and ended up on the roof of his school, which also landed him a lengthier than average punishment in his cupboard.

"Maybe," Harry finally responded.

Albus smiled warmly at him and nodded as if encouraging him to continue.

"Maybe I've done things I can't explain," Harry continued. "But never on purpose. They just…happen."

"Did you ever wonder why?"

Harry shrugged. "Yes, but Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon…they didn't like when I asked about it."

Albus nodded at him, a pensive look on his face. "Harry," Albus started, "the reason why these strange events occur for you is no accident or coincidence. You're a wizard."

Harry blinked. "A _what_?"

"A wizard, Harry."

And with that statement, Albus reached into the pocket of his strange purple coat and pulled out a long wooden stick that appeared old. It was carved in what appeared to be clusters of berries that ran down its length. He watched as Albus pointed the stick at Aunt Petunia's china plates that decorated the top of the chestnut armoire that was beside them. Harry jumped as the entire cabinet exploded into tiny pieces, covering them both in the dust. Mouth open, the boy looked at the door where he was sure his Aunt and Uncle would have heard the commotion. To his surprise, they didn't storm through the door in fury.

The armoire and everything in it thoroughly destroyed and Harry looked back at Albus in shock. He watched as the man waved his stick again. Almost as quickly as the armoire was destroyed, the shattered pieces began to rebuild itself, piece by piece until the furniture and all the expensive china and decorative items were back in its place. Untouched, unharmed.

Harry looked at Albus, who was still holding the stick or _wand_ and was staring back at Harry, watching him as he took in the magnificent event.

"But," Harry said, his racing mind struggling to catch up with his mouth. "But, how did you do that?"

"Magic." And Albus lifted his wand again and pointed it at the decorative kettle that adorned the coffee table that was between them. With another flick of the wand, the kettle turned into a small white rabbit.

Harry gawked. The rabbit stared at the pair of them before jumping off of the table and hopping around the small room.

"But how do you…?"

Harry asked. His gaze was fixed on the movements of the rabbit.

Albus put his wand back in the pocket of the cloak. Harry deflated slightly, realizing the magic display was over.

"And I can do that too?" Harry asked.

"One day, dear boy, you will be able to do that and so much more with magic."

"But how will I learn? I don't have a wand; don't I need one of those too?"

Albus nodded and moved to speak but in Harry's excitement, he interrupted the old wizard.

"But why can I do this? Can everyone?" Harry paused. "Could my parents do this?"

Albus' eyes twinkled at Harry, who seemingly realized he was quite rude in interrupting and fell silent again.

"It is not every day that an old man like myself gets to witness the joy of a child who learns that magic exists."

"This is amazing!" Harry exclaimed, bubbling in excitement.

Albus' next words tempered that excitement. "There are things, Harry, which I must explain to you. You asked about your parents."

Harry nodded.

"Your parents indeed shared this gift, and were quite capable," Albus said, "Some may say they were powerful."

"But they died," Harry stated. If they were so powerful, he thought to himself, then why did they die?

"Magic can be used for good, wonderful acts. I rebuilt this cabinet with just a flick of the wand." Albus paused here. "But I also destroyed it with a slight variation of that same movement of my wand."

Albus continued, "magic can also commit great harm. Dear boy, your parents were sadly victims of the great destruction that can be done by magic."

"Was their car crash caused by magic?" Harry asked, confused by Albus' revelation.

Albus stared at him, "Car crash?"

"But isn't that how my parents died; in a car accident?" Harry asked. He leaned forward in his seat as he caught Albus' expression briefly change into a look of anger.

"Is that what your Aunt and Uncle told you happened to James and Lily?" Albus asked.

"…James and Lily?"

Albus once again leaned back and stared searchingly at Harry before speaking again. "I have underestimated the bitterness that your Aunt felt for her sister," he said. "Do you know anything about your parents, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "Not really, sir."

"Harry?"

Harry didn't respond.

Albus appeared pensive again. He watched Harry as he brought his fingers together. He touched his chin before he began speaking. "Do you like it here, Harry?" he asked. "Do you like living with your Aunt and Uncle?"

Harry finally shook his head. "They hate me here," he said in a soft whisper.

"Why do you say that they hate you?" Albus asked. His was warm but firm, and Harry briefly met his eyes.

"I live in the cupboard," Harry blurted out.

Albus looked at him.

"The cupboard under the stairs, that's my room. They hate me! I have to cook all the meals almost every day. Dudley beats me up at school and he never gets in trouble for it. They lock me in the cupboard all day when I'm being punished and I'm only let out to do chores or use the bathroom." Harry blurted this out very quickly, not stopping to see the way Albus' blue eyes darkened.

"Will you take me away from here?" He turned back to Albus and looked at him pleadingly.

Albus gave him a look of such despair that it made Harry feel uncomfortable. "Harry," the man began, his voice sounding decades older in the twenty minutes they had been speaking. "When I left you here all those years ago I asked Petunia one thing. And that was to treat you as if you were her own."

"Well she doesn't treat me like Dudley," Harry said bitterly as he took in the information that Albus was the reason he lived with his Aunt and Uncle in the first place.

"I knew your Aunt would not appreciate frequent or even infrequent visits by any witch or wizard." Albus sighed. "I trusted in her, Harry, and I'm afraid I made a grave mistake."

Harry fought within himself. Albus had just given him the best gift that he could have imagined. He had given him magic; or at least, had given him the word for all the odd events that occurred around him. But Albus was also the reason why he was even at the Dursleys. Why couldn't he have dropped him with someone who was like him?

"Do I have to stay here?" Harry finally asked.

Albus nodded. "Yes."

Harry jumped up from the couch. "I can't stay here! Didn't you hear me? They hate me!"

"You must stay here, Harry. It pains me to tell you this but you must stay here because there is nowhere that is safer for you."

Harry didn't know if it was the righteous anger that kept him standing but he stared at Albus, defiant. "Why?"

Albus nodded. "A fair question. When your mother died she left a protection on you. She used old magic, very old magic to make sure you lived. And that magic is strengthened every day that you share a home with a blood relative of your mother." Albus paused. "I know it doesn't feel like it Harry, but you are protected here."

"Then it wasn't a car crash that killed my parents?" Harry asked as he sat back down, mind reeling from the information he was given.

"I suppose we can start again there," Albus stated. He paused as if to collect his thoughts. "As I mentioned earlier, your parents were like you. Blessed with the ability to perform amazing acts of magic. Your father, James, was born into an old magical family. From the moment he was old enough to understand anything, he was aware that he had been given this gift."

Harry nodded in wonderment, eagerly taking in the information that he so desperately desired to hear about the people he would have called his parents.

Albus continued. "Occasionally, we do find that people born of magical talents are sometimes born to families who quite ignorant of this ability. Your mother, brilliant as she was in her skills, was born to a family who knew nothing of magic. She was your age when she received a visitor, perhaps someone similar to myself, who explained this ability to her."

"Are there a lot of us, then?" Harry asked. His mind raced with the possibilities of the new information that was given to him.

Albus looked away for a brief moment, staring into nothingness. "It is a rare gift," he answered, "a gift that must be kept secret. Those of us who have the ability to produce magic has worked very hard to ensure that muggles, or those without the gift, learn nothing of our existence."

"So there aren't many of us then? How do we find each other?" Harry asked.

He watched as Albus carefully chose his next words. "It is not advisable for all of those with this gift to come together. There are those who wish to sully this gift with darkness. I've come to you Harry, to guide you. You must learn how to control this gift."

Harry nodded excitedly despite the man's ominous words. "Yes, I want to learn. You will come here then, to teach me?"

Albus nodded. "Yes."

Harry's heart leapt with joy. "And I don't have to go to Stonehill now?"

"Alas," Albus stated, "I'm sorry to bear this disappointment but you will live normally most days. We will arrange for your magical training but is imperative Harry, that you resume your normal life whenever we aren't meeting."

"But why?" Harry asked. "I'm not a…muggle, right? There must be somewhere that we go? You said there were families full of magicals like my dad."

Albus nodded. "I did say that," he began before pausing again. "You must forgive an old man, Harry, for clarity that I have not shared with you. We live in secret. And sometimes that secret exists between each other. It is not safe for all of us to know each other."

Harry felt confused but didn't respond, instead, he turned away from Albus as he considered the information that was just given to him.

Albus stood. "Come, Harry," he said, reaching his crooked arm out for Harry to take. "There are a few things we must do now."

"Now?" Harry asked. It must have been nearly 9 o'clock in the evening. Where could they be going?

"We have some errands to run, you will be needing a wand."

Harry perked up and took the old man's arm.

"But first," Albus said, turning them towards the door. With gentle tug Harry let Albus lead them back into the hallway and walk towards the entry room. When they arrived, both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were standing there with pinched looks.

"We have discussed the matter for which I arrived," Albus began.

"So you told him, then?" Aunt Petunia asked sharply.

"It is to my complete disappointment that the one request I had of you in taking young Harry, Petunia, you could not see fit to manage."

"Now you see here!" Uncle Vernon piped in but Aunt Petunia interrupted him.

She glared. "He's fed, isn't he? He's got clothes -

"He sleeps in a cupboard," Albus interrupted. "You couldn't see fit to give him a room in the home?"

"He's warm at night," Aunt Petunia answered.

Suddenly, Albus pulled his wand from the pocket of his cloak and pointed it at Aunt Petunia's face. Uncle Vernon startled and put his arm out as if to grab the man's wand but he stilled and stopped moving.

"Vernon!" Aunt Petunia said as she turned towards her husband. Her voice was filled with fright. Harry could see her grow pale.

"Lily was your sister," Albus said, ignoring the turmoil of Harry's aunt. His voice was sharp as if it could cut steel. He sounded dangerous and no longer appeared to be quite as old or frail. The wand was still pointed at Aunt Petunia's pinched face.

"I can't erase the wound of the loss of Lily. But Harry feeling the brunt of your anger ends now, Petunia."

"You - you, you can't," Aunt Petunia stuttered.

"You will find that I can," Albus said. "And I will. I will be in contact with Harry perhaps more frequently than I originally intended."

Albus waved his wand and Uncle Vernon reanimated back to life, stumbling forward. "What did you do to me?"

"Not nearly what you deserve. Harry is a child, and while I cannot erase the impact of your wrongdoing, it ends here."

The Dursleys were silent as they held on to each other and stared at the wizened wizard.

"Have I made myself clear?" Albus asked.

Slowly and reluctantly both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon nodded. Albus watched them for a moment before turning to Harry, who had been watching the exchange impassively.

"Grab your jacket, Harry," Albus said calmly, no longer looking quite as frightening. Harry took a light coat from the coatstand next to the door and returned to Albus' side.

"Ready?" Albus asked.

Harry nodded and took the old man's arm. And with a barely audible "pop!" the pair disappeared from Four Privet Drive to a journey of unknown.

TBC.

AN: Thanks for reading. The next chapter returns to the year 2002. Many thanks to the patient souls who are beta'ing this fic. VonPelt, bookaddict18, and Reldern. The real MVPs.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: April 2002

Harry Potter sat in the back of the local coffee shop he visited nearly every day since moving to the borough nearly six years ago. It was a small shop that catered mostly to the locals in the area and was normally a quiet place for him to work when he became tired of staring at the walls of his 1-bedroom flat. But unlike most days when he came to the shop, traffic was busy. He glared longingly at a table in the back corner, the one where he usually sat while he worked on his laptop. Instead of the comfortable spot, where he could sit in a cosy armchair that saw little foot traffic, he was sitting in the middle of the small shop using a tiny table in a hard chair, vaguely reminding him of the ones in secondary school.

He refocused his gaze on his laptop, staring at the screen in frustration. He had been at the shop most of the afternoon working on his latest project for his job as a web developer. He spent the morning working in his flat, but after growing weary of the isolation he decided to come to the coffee shop where instead of the usual generally pleasant atmosphere it was full to the brim of Londoners.

Harry looked up from his computer screen as a bright red pocketbook loudly dropped on the table, ratting his laptop. Harry looked up to see the scowling woman dressed smartly with a done-up face. She was dressed impressively for the local shop.

"This seat taken?" she asked. Her voice was sharp and impatient. Harry shook his head and refocused on his laptop. He put on his headphones to drone out the sounds of the woman who had begun talking loudly on her mobile.

Harry looked at the time on his screen and decided to pack up for the day. It was nearly six in the evening and he had been working pretty steadily at the shop for a couple of hours now. He hurriedly finished up an e-mail he needed to send to his boss who lived in the states about a project he was recently assigned before closing the screen and packing up his belongings.

He opened the door of the shop and stepped outside where the air had begun to cool for the evening. It was back to a typical British spring, Harry thought to himself as he felt the ever-present light misty rainfall and entered onto the busy sidewalk of his neighbourhood. The shop was located only a few streets from his flat and it was only a few minutes of walking in the rain before he approached the brown brick building he lived in. His place was on the top floor of a three-story building; the first floor a small store owned by a Nigerian woman who sold brightly patterned clothes at odd hours. Harry lived in what he thought was one of the most un-Dursleyish neighbourhoods in central London.

He used his key to enter the building and walked up the concrete steps to the third floor, which only had two other flats. His neighbours were mostly immigrants and kept to themselves, and the place was generally quiet except when the mam next door babysat her grandchildren.

Harry opened the door to his flat and stopped. He noticed that the lights, turned off before he left, were glowing brightly. His key still in the lock, he quietly nudged the door open to see the kitchen of his flat, slowly reaching for his wand.

Harry kept his fist clenched tightly on the handle of his holly wand and walked further into the flat. He turned his head towards the hallway that led to his bedroom before letting out a brief sigh of relief and his heart return to a normal pace. He recognized Lucy immediately as she exited the hallway and joined him in the main living space of the flat.

"You're home!" Lucy exclaimed as she turned from the tiny hallway to the kitchen. She stopped as she noticed Harry hurriedly placing his wand back in his pocket.

"Still paranoid, are you?" She asked as she raised a thinly arched blonde eyebrow.

"I wasn't expecting anyone," Harry said as he walked further into the flat, closing the door behind him as he put his bag on the bar that separated the small kitchen from the rest of the living space in the flat. A tiny hallway off the side of the kitchen led to a small bathroom. Next to the bathroom was the laughably small bedroom that really only fit his bed and a bureau. It wasn't the nicest place in London but for Harry, it was home.

Harry noticed that the apartment was fragrant with the smell of warm food. Lucy entered the kitchen and begin reaching into the oak cabinets.

"You cooked?" Harry asked as he peeled off his coat and hung it in the entryway closet.

"Don't make me laugh," Lucy responded with a scoff. She turned back to the cabinet and grabbed two flat plates. "Take away. Curry," she said, pointing to a plastic bag of containers that was settled on top of the unlit stove.

"Thanks," Harry said. He reached around Lucy, grabbing a cutlery and drinking glasses. They worked together silently setting the places with practised familiarity.

"You're lucky I remembered to get fizzies before I came over," Lucy said as she put the spoons in the rice and in the curry. "Still only drinking bitters?"

"There's water from the tap," Harry responded, ignoring the slight.

The sat at the small table and began plating their meals. Harry watched as Lucy reached for the rice. For the first time that evening he noticed that her normally shoulder length blonde hair was longer and more wavy than she usually wore it. She was wearing a grey pullover that barely covered her thin shoulders.

"Haven't seen you in a while," Harry said finally.

Lucy handed him the tin of rice before moving on to the curried chicken. "Was on holiday in Tropea," she answered. She lowered her pullover slightly showing her tanned skin. "See?"

"Holiday," Harry said with a scoff.

"Prat," Lucy responded.

"I just didn't know you had a job now, that's all," Harry said with a teasing smile as he plated his own food.

"Well, you don't always have to have a _job_ to go on holiday," Lucy responded. Harry could see a faint blush on her cheeks and felt a little guilty at teasing her. "It was a nice gift from my parents. Not everyone has relatives that hate them," she said coolly.

Harry suddenly found himself find less guilty for his other comment and didn't respond. Instead, he let the silence permeate the air as they both were quietly eating. They ate for a moment, and Harry let himself enjoy the spicy Indian dish and tried to ignore his growing unease. This wasn't the first time that Lucy would disappear from his life for weeks at a time, before coming back as if nothing were different as if she hadn't left leaving turmoil in her wake.

"I wasn't sure I was going to come back here," Lucy said after a few more moments of silence. "You know, with how we left things."

"Then you should stop telling your brother I'm breaking your heart," Harry said. "I thought he was going to hit me last night."

Lucy paused, her fork inches from her full lips and she stared at Harry, her pale blue eyes watering. "You are breaking my heart," she said as she put down the fork without eating.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "That's surprising."

"You act like you don't even care anymore," Lucy said, her eyes turned downwards. "I mean after everything, you know? You act like I'm just a bother for you."

"You're not a bother, I just…" Harry began, but Lucy interrupted him.

"I saw that tart you shagged last month," Lucy interrupted as she angrily stabbed a piece of chicken with her fork, "the mixed girl with curly hair and big tits, yeah? She reminded me of Evie."

"Are you following me around then?" Harry asked, feeling perturbed that he hadn't noticed being followed. He suppressed a wince at an intrusive memory of a hard-earned lesson from the mad Alastor Moody about being followed flashed in his mind.

"I'm not _following_ you. I came by alright? Before I left for Tropea to apologize after our row and I see you bringing some slag up to the flat. So, of course, I went to my brother, at least I know he cares. And he's _your_ best mate, I thought he could talk some sense into you."

Harry gave her an incredulous look. "Are you having a laugh?" he asked. He was almost taken aback by the brazen sense of entitlement Lucy was displaying.

The blonde's thin nostrils flared in anger. "I'm not having a laugh." She visibly struggled to calm her temper as she sighed. "I'm just trying to get back on track and it's like you aren't giving me the chance. We were _married_ Harry, and that means something."

Harry shrugged, immediately deciding that he had enough of this argument. If he didn't stop it now he could see the night ending with shattered plates and he quite liked the set he bought after their last blowout argument. "You left. You don't get to tell me how to move on," he said coolly.

This ended their argument and they finished eating their meal in strained silence. Harry was glad that at least the food was good. Curry was his favourite to get for take away, which Lucy knew. Harry unsettled feeling about Lucy showing up, unannounced, bearing his favourite foods to eat, grew as he waited for the other shoe to drop.

Lucy broke the silence, which Harry knew she would. Despite the vitriol that existed in their conversation she would predictably change the subject to a more pleasant topic until they found something new to argue about.

"Tell me about your show last night? I saw Marty earlier but he's still a few neurons short right now so I couldn't get an answer."

"It went well," Harry said, deciding to follow Lucy's lead this time. He thought back to their show a few nights ago. They had made some mistakes but that was to be expected since they were out of practice. It had been their first show in just over six months and most of the other bandmates were spending time playing in their other, more successful bands. Except for Harry, who had decided after their first breakup tour that he wanted to pursue a more stable paycheck. They'd been bandmates since they were 17 and with only one show outside of Britain, Harry wasn't especially convinced they would become a success.

That being said, he did have fun back on the stage where he only had to concentrate on drumming and could ignore everything else going on in his life. Harry's mind briefly flashed to the lavender-haired woman he literally ran into after the show and smiled to himself as he recalled their odd encounter. He looked up to see Lucy gazing at him in interest and felt a pang of guilt about thinking about another woman. "I thought you were going to be there?" he asked.

Lucy shrugged.

They finished their meal in relative peace before starting to clean. Lucy turned on the television as they started the routine of packing up leftovers and washing dishes. In the small flat the sound carried and they spoke casually as the sounds of the evening news and Lucy's comments on the stories permeated the room. As they finished Lucy stood on her tiptoes, her feet covered by thick fuzzy socks, and kissed Harry on the cheek.

After they were done he followed the Lucy into the living room where she sat cross-legged on his small grey couch and patted her legs, "come on then."

Harry was tempted to turn her away. They had snipped at each other so much already this evening that he felt exhausted by her presence. But against his better judgement, he let himself lay on the couch, facing the telly as he let his head fall into Lucy's waiting lap.

Lucy ran her hand up his arm and under the sleeve of his t-shirt. "You got a new one?" She asked, her hand stopping at the still slightly swollen tattoo of the funny-looking bird, a phoenix, that had been added to the collection on his inked forearm. "Going for a full sleeve, then?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe," he answered. He wasn't sure what he going for, honestly. The Phoenix had been a slightly impulsive choice for him, as he typically didn't invite reminders of Albus Dumbledore who had disappeared from his life all those years ago.

He could feel her legs shake as she laughed, "God if only that dreadful _Petunia Dursley_ caught sight of you now. She'd call the coppers, I'm sure of it."

Harry didn't answer. He closed his eyes as he leaned into Lucy's legs. They were smooth and warm and despite himself, Harry felt comfortable for the first time all day.

"I tidied up a bit in the room," Lucy said a moment later. "I found your school papers. You finally decide to do it then?"

Harry ignored the pang of irritation he felt hearing Lucy had gone through his things again. "Just thinking about it still."

"What's left to think about?" Lucy said.

"I'm barely making rent as it is, Lucy," Harry said. "I've got a decent job now, and if I'm there a bit longer they'll give me more projects. If I go back to school I'll have to work less and probably wouldn't be able to afford this place. And Petunia Dursleywould, in fact, call the coppers if she saw me again with how I left, so it's not like I can stay there."

Lucy then put her hands through his hair, twirling her fingers in his messy locks. "You should let me move back in," she said softly.

Harry opened one eye and saw Lucy staring not at him but at the telly which was showing an advert for dishwashing soap. "So what? You can leave again?"

"I haven't got a place to stay now. I could help you pay rent, you know. I saw a new pub across the way."

"Let me guess. You're pissed at your parents and Marty is asking too many questions about what you get up to during the day?" Harry asked.

"I'm too old to live with my parents," Lucy whined, "I'm 24 now and they treat me like I've never been out on my own before. And staying with Marty comes with its own downsides as you very well know. And you literally just told me you're having trouble paying the rent."

"There's only one room."

"It was a one-room flat when we moved in here," Lucy responded. Her voice petulant.

Harry shook his head, letting his eyes close again. "You're mad, Lucy," he said softly, "You can't move back in. I get the flat, right? That's what we agreed."

"And me? What did I get?"

"Everything else that mattered," Harry answered shortly.

Lucy was quiet for a moment before she reached over him to grab the remote and turn off the telly. She nudged Harry from her lap. He sat up and rubbed his eyes as she stood and reached her thin pale arm out to Harry. "Come on, magic boy, let's go to bed."

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Tonks slammed her head on her desk, perhaps harder than she originally intended since Dooley, the only other Auror who was in office this late on a Monday night looked up startled.

"Alright there?" He asked.

Tonks picked up her head, her still lavender locks partially obscuring her view, and squinted at Dooley, the older Auror who she normally got on with. "Fine, Dooley," she said with a sigh.

"Go home, kid," he said, getting up himself and packing up the scattered papers on his desk. "There's gotta be something more interesting you could be doing right now."

Tonks scowled at her desk. "Stop calling me kid, Dooley, I'm the same age as your wife."

The older Auror put his hand on his chest as if wounded by her words. "Low blow, Tonks. And she's 32, kid."

"And you're 60. I'll be leaving in a minute," she said shortly.

Dooley apparently taking the hint nodded at her and walked towards the exit of the Auror offices, grabbing his cloak on the way out.

Tonks was finally alone.

She sighed as she leaned back in her seat. It had been over forty-eight hours since she ran into Harry Potter at the Middle East pub and she hadn't been able to tell anyone about what happened the night before. She never encountered an obscuring charm so powerful that she couldn't even utter the name Harry Potter without being stopped by an invisible hand to her throat. She had tried writing down the encounter to submit an incident report but the words 'Harry Potter' only came out in intelligible squiggles on the parchment.

After she met Harry and the frenzied report she tried to submit at the Auror offices the following day with a massive headache that she earned after she had been too excited to stop at the apocathary for a hangover potion. She again remembered the encounter she had with Moody last year where he tried to tell her about Harry but couldn't. She remembered the way his eyes bulged in his head as he attempted to spit out the name and flushed in embarrassment as she realized that is how she looked to her current supervisor, Robards, the day before.

She spent the better part of three days hidden in the Auror libraries, trying to find the spell that Albus Dumbledore must have used with little luck. Only finding a few different spells that had similar effects. She knew in the past she could say the name Harry Potter without trouble, the few times she could ever remember uttering his name. Earlier the day prior she experimented on the extent of the charm by leaving an old article about the boy on the table in the break room. She sat in the room, appearing as if she were absently eating a muffin when Michael Corner, a young dark-haired Auror entered the room. He had glanced at the paper and asked her quite clearly, "why's there an article on Harry Potter?" with a puzzled expression.

She scared Corner away with her curses once she realized that she couldn't answer him using Harry Potter's name.

Tonks let out a long groan of exhausted frustration as she stood from her desk and gathered her belongings to lock up for the night. "Nox," she said as she waved her wand and the lights turned off in the Auror offices. Closing the door behind her with a snap, she walked down the empty corridor towards the elevators.

"Must be really late," the Metamorphagus muttered to herself as she re-hoisted her bag and turned her wrist to look at the time. "Bugger," she said, realizing that it was nearing 9 and most take away places would be closed for the evening. She would have to make a sandwich again when she got home.

The corridor was dark and only brightened as the motion detecting candles lit as she approached. Tonks had her wand ready in her right hand as she slowed her walk down the hall, listening carefully for the sounds of another witch or wizard about. She chastened herself for feeling paranoid but occasionally the sprawling Ministry of Magic could be a bit off-putting when it was empty like this and an Auror was never too careful.

She turned the corner towards the elevator lobby where she immediately walked head first into the stocky form of Alastor Moody. She fell backwards, sprawled on her back as she stared up at Moody, who was still standing there, looking down at her with his magical eye spinning wildly.

Tonks opened and closed her mouth as she stared at him. She had been looking for Moody for the better part of a year, with a more aggressive search over the past sixty hours and here he was standing over her with the most _smug-_

"Oi!" Tonks yelled finally, she irritably picked up the papers what were sprawled around her, holding on to her wand as she steadily glared at Moody through the corner of her eyes. Tonks stood up and pulled on the sleeve of her cloak.

"You should watch where you're going," Moody said when he finally saw fit to speak.

Tonks continued to glare at him. "I didn't hear you coming," she said tightly through clenched teeth. She felt embarrassed by the oversight because she had been quite careful to listen for sounds as she walked the Ministry's halls and she wasn't sure how she could have possibly missed the sound of Moody's wooden peg on the loud floors.

"You wouldn't have," Moody responded.

They stared at each other, Tonks flushed and angry while Moody's chiseled face didn't reveal any hint of emotion. Tonks rolled her eyes and began walking again towards the elevators, Moody following next to her.

"I've been looking for you," Tonks said.

"Aye," Moody nodded. "Thought I told you I had a lead to follow."

"A lead? You've been gone a year. And you're retired, Moody!" Tonks said, a bit exasperated.

Moody shook his head as they rode the elevator down to the main level of the Ministry to the apparition points. "What we need to talk about is not Ministry business, If I can help it."

As they exited the elevators Moody grabbed the sleeve of Tonks' cloak, pulling her to a secluded corner in the nearly empty main lobby.

"Hey!" Tonks yelled.

"Enough of that," her old mentor said shortly. "Told you I had a lead to follow, thought you might be interested in what it was." He said, he stared at her and Tonks fought to focus on his normal eyes, since the magical one was making her feel a bit dizzy.

"Of course I'm interested," she responded. "I've been looking for you for a reason, you know."

"What have you got, then?" Moody said, leaning back against the wall that blocked their view of the rest of the lobby.

"Harry Potter," Tonks said, fully expecting her throat to stop before she could utter the name. Her eyes widened in surprise. "It worked!" she exclaimed.

It was the first time she could remember seeing Moody appear shocked. His wrinkled and scared face shifted into a terrifying expression that Tonks correctly interpreted as being a surprise.

"…Harry Potter," Moody repeated, his magical eye bumping around so quickly that Tonks briefly worried it would fall out.

" _Finally,_ I have so much to tell you!" she said excitedly.

Moody nodded, his expression returning the hardened look he normally wore. "Apparate to where we meet. It's not secure enough here."

Tonks nodded and she practically sprinted to the Ministry's apparition point, Moody following more slowly behind her. She took off her cloak, revealing her muggle clothes and apparated to an empty beach on the East coast before apparating again to a small muggle park in Devonshire. This was the meeting point she and Moody agreed upon years ago when he first became her mentor.

It was only a moment later that she was joined by Moody on the lone bench in the middle of the park, facing a sad-looking metal swing set. She waited as he set the privacy spells before she began speaking.

"I ran into him Friday night," Tonks said quickly, too excited to wait. "I was at my cousin's hen night in London and I see Harry Potter playing the bloody drums in some muggle band."

The old wizard nodded as if telling her to continue.

"I bumped him after the show and spoke to him for a bit but I didn't know what to expect. He was kind of in hurry," Tonks paused here, mentally preparing herself for the verbal lashing that Moody was going to give her when he heard that she had been stupid enough to not hit him with a tracking charm. "I didn't get a chance to talk to him much, but I know what neighbourhood he lives in now but I just can't seem to find him again," Tonks finished in a rush.

Moody was quiet for only a short moment before he began speaking, "And you won't," he said shortly. "Been looking for the boy for the past six years and I haven't been able to find him."

"But why were you looking for him?" Tonks asked, her eyebrows were scrunched together in confusion.

"I told you the old Codger was protecting him, didn't I?" Moody needlessly asked. He didn't wait for Tonks to respond before he continued. "I've known the boy since he was 12-years-old."

Tonks was in shock as she let the information sink in. " _What_?" she asked.

Moody settled back into the wooden park bench as if he were gearing up to tell a long story. "Ten years ago Albus Dumbledore calls me to Hogwarts and tells me that he has a plan."

Tonks leaned in closer to him eagerly taking in his next words.

"He tells me that the boy-who-lived isn't missing at all," Moody let out a long gutteral sound through clenched teeth before continuing. "He tells me the boy is hidden in plain sight among the muggles." Moody scoffed. "Albus put a spell on the boy, made it so none of our kind wouldn't be able to find him unless he allowed it."

"Why'd he ask you?"

Moody stared at Tonks with a calculating look. "He asked me because Voldemort isn't dead."

Tonks gasped, leaning away from him as she fought to keep her composure. "What do you mean Voldemort isn't dead? He's been dead for over twenty years!"

The old Auror shook his head, "Not according to Albus Dumbledore. Voldemort is able to come back, Of course, Albus didn't explain _how_ mind you, but he will return." Moody turned his head to glare at Tonks, "and open your eyes, girl. You know the dark is rising again. You've seen it."

Tonks felt her heart beating heavily in her chest as she struggled to process the news that the darkest wizard that ever lived wasn't dead and could very well be gathering the strength for a new reign of terror.

"The boy needed training," Moody continued, crossing his large arms over his chest. "But Albus thought the best chance we had at stopping Voldemort's return was to make sure Harry never entered our world."

" _What_?"

"But," Moody continued ignoring her, "Albus needs the boy trained well enough that he can come back and be the hero again if we do need him. So instead of learning how to change feathers into needles, I spend the next four years training him to be an Auror. The boy had no idea there was anything called Hogwarts."

"And Dumbledore?" Tonks asked.

"Albus held lessons with the boy separately. I was training him to be a fighter and Albus was training him in Merlin knows what else. As far as I know, I was the only other person who knew anything about what was going on with Harry Potter until now."

"So Albus Dumbledore… _lied_ to Harry? Didn't tell him that there was a whole society of us that he could have joined? Didn't tell him anything about Hogwarts?" Tonks asked, stunned. She tried to rectify the idea of the friendly benevolent wizard behaving in a way that was so… _cruel._

Moody let out a dry barking laugh as he shrugged, "Only the Greatest Wizard of All Time could think this one up. He wanted to protect our world _and_ protect the boy and he made a damn mess of things."

Tonks shook her head, letting the cooling wind whip around her face as the thoughts raced through her head. "And what about Sirius?" Tonks asked suddenly, thinking of her half-mad cousin who spent years in Azkaban before escaping nearly a decade ago. "That's Harry's godfather. Does he know, too?"

Moody shook his head, "Nah, tried talking to him once about it after Albus died but I couldn't. So I knew he wasn't let it on the secret."

"So what do we do now?" Tonks asked.

"We have to find the boy," Moody answered. "Whatever spell Dumbledore used isn't going to end without Potter."

"You just said it would be impossible finding him again," Tonks responded as she shook her lavender locks, an incredulous look on her face.

"You're the closest I've gotten to finding him again." There was an intense look in Moody's normal eye as he stared at Tonks. "The spell Albus used is triggered by meeting him and so far it's been impossible to break. Once we end the spell we can figure out how to either prevent Voldemort from returning. Or kill the son of a bitch if he's already managed to get a body back."

"And you? Where have you been all this time?" Tonks asked, suddenly remembering that her old mentor had disappeared for a year without a trace.

Moody reached into his cloak pocket, pulling out a piece of scrap parchment. He shoved the parchment into her hands.

Tonks unfurled the paper and looked down. " _The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London,_ " she said, reading the small print out loud.

She looked back up to face Moody who was staring at her with a hard look on his face.

"Been gathering some of the old crew," he said as if it were an adequate explanation.

Tonks blinked at him.

"I'll find you when we've made some progress." And with one final hard stare at the metamorphagus witch, Moody rose from the bench and limped away.

XXXXXXXXXXX

AN: Thank you for reading. And thank you to the very helpful beta-readers who are saving this fic, let's be honest - VonPelt, bookaddict18, and Reldern.


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